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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479189">loving is so short, forgetting is so long</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxmddream/pseuds/bxmddream'>bxmddream</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akasaku, Angst, Background Relationships, Bokuaka - Freeform, M/M, Moving On, Not Canon Compliant, Pablo Neruda's Poetry, Pining, SakuAtsu, Unrequited Love, if ya squint, tons of one-sided pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:08:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxmddream/pseuds/bxmddream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We the mortals touch the metals,<br/>the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,<br/>knowing they will go on, inert or burning,<br/>and I was discovering, naming all the these things:<br/>it was my destiny to love and say goodbye."</p><p>-Pablo Neruda </p><p> </p><p>Where one Sakusa Kiyoomi submits to the whims of Chaos and falls...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>loving is so short, forgetting is so long</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*rolls sleeves* orayt, sakuaka nation, here we go...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>i. as if you were on fire from within. the moon lives in the lining of your skin</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>There’s a certain level of beauty and allure we humans behold celestial bodies to. Sakusa sees that at the tender age of seven; from a documentary on television about galaxies, neutron stars, and black holes.</p><p>Having been revered countless times, by relatives and strangers alike of his own beauty- which he’d scoff and roll his eyes at every time in response, Sakusa knows that whatever beauty he’d been blessed with cannot ever compare to stardust and meteors. Their splendor, testament to their extraterrestrial nature, is a constant reminder of the ordinariness of us mere humans. The dust of creation runs through the cores of heavenly bodies for centuries and millennia, while we sit here in our vessels of flesh and blood, waiting to rot.</p><p>Perhaps it is this ethereality and permanence that we envy, knowing that we can never set foot on the same pedestal where comets and nebulas and galaxies reside. Always far, far away from the fingertips of the most beautiful human being.</p><p>That’s what Sakusa Kiyoomi always believed, wholeheartedly, without fail, in his fifteen years of existence.</p><p> </p><p>Until one summer night, when the universe looks down upon this beautiful boy, stares him in the eyes, and challenges his faith.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers the moment vividly, clouded in star dusts and solar flares.</p><p>It was the night of the <em> Ueno Sakura Matsuri </em>, Komori had dragged him along- why Sakusa agreed, he forgot. He’d just been walking behind Komori, nodding and humming absentmindedly as Komori asked him questions and dragged him through different stalls.</p><p>They were on the tamagoyaki stall when he saw him.</p><p>And Sakusa felt his breath catch in his throat.</p><p>Somewhere, Chaos cackled.</p><p> </p><p>Standing idly by the onigiri shop, two stalls down; bathed in the soft light of the half-moon overhead and the lanterns hanging across the street. Streams of amber dancing over the small smile etched on his lips, casting shadows on the soft contours of his jaw, highlighting the dip in his eyelids.</p><p>Sakusa swore he’s never seen anything more beautiful.</p><p>Celestial bodies were magnificent, lightyears away from the beauty of human beings. Two very different classes of splendor, never co-existing, the other stuck in the shadows while Chaos blesses the void. Sakusa believes that; he always has.</p><p>But right now, with this boy in front of him.</p><p>He thinks stars and galaxies be damned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was beautiful. </em>
</p><p>In the way human beings were not.</p><p>In the way celestial bodies were not.</p><p>As if Chaos took the star dusts of creation and wove them into flesh and veins and bones.</p><p>This boy right here, stands a step above black holes and comets. Moonlight dancing under his skin, flowing through his veins. Whorls of black holes hidden in the tufts of his hair. A neutron star trapped in his irises, <em> burning </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos presents him this.</p><p>A human, transcending stars and galaxies and planets.</p><p>And Sakusa can’t look away.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>ii. i want to do with you what spring does to cherry blossoms</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>That night never left Sakusa’s mind. It lingered in the shadows and crevices of his thoughts, making a home deep in the fortress of his convictions. Sending him into tumultuous thought spirals and endlessly challenging his beliefs.</p><p>To say Sakusa was frustrated would be an understatement.</p><p>No.</p><p>He was <em> furious. </em></p><p>At the world. At the universe. At every celestial body there is in the void. All his life, he’d been led to believe, by stars and meteors and comets, that beauty- true <em> ethereal </em> beauty, would be impossible for humans.</p><p>And yet, there <em> he </em> was.</p><p>It was maddening.</p><p>And after three hours of sleep following the third day of the festival. Sakusa took measures into his own hands.</p><p>If he were to survive that… awakening with his mind intact, he would not think of <em> him </em> to the same degree as galaxies and stars and the cosmos. He will not think of the collisions and the big bangs and whatever lottery the universe held that resulted in the making of… <em> him </em>. To keep his sanity and his convictions and values, he will think of him within the confines of mundane and ordinary things.</p><p>Which led him here, rooted to the pavement, a cacophony of thoughts running through the forefront of his mind, and eyes glued to the blossoms of a cherry tree.</p><p>Sakuras were beautiful, all of Japan knows that, hell, all the world knows that. But, to Sakusa, there’s something about how common Sakuras are, how much of a tourist attraction they have become, and how much of an element they play in cliché stories that chips away at their elegance and lessens the value of their magnificence.</p><p>Still, he can’t help it when he finds himself holding his breath every time March rolls around; bringing with it the sweet scent of spring, caressing leaves and bare branches, whispering promises of new life and new beginnings. It says to the earth, “<em> It is time” </em>. And the Sakura trees obey; buds bursting open in parks and streets, petals billowing in delicate shades of whites and pinks and lavenders and yellows, the soft scent of blossoms bringing a mellow hum of contentment to Sakusa’s chest.</p><p>This.</p><p><em> This </em> is beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Akaashi Keiji</p><p>Chaos grants him that piece of knowledge in the form of gossip about the new Fukurodani setter in the middle of training.</p><p>
  <em> Akaashi Keiji </em>
</p><p>If Sakusa was ready to abandon his philosophies just by seeing him, now, knowing his name, he’s ready to give justice to the ‘Holy Minister’ on his own. Akaashi Keiji; a bible all on its own. If there was a God somewhere, this must be what it feels to behold a revelation. Because, hell, if Sakusa could, he’d make a religion out of his name, bless every mouth that utters it, and murmur it in gospels, prayers, and litanies.</p><p> </p><p>After that, Chaos would continue granting him bits and pieces of Akaashi, as though sending meteors right in the palm of his hands. And Sakusa takes them all greedily.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The first meteorite comes in a joint training camp the summer before their second year, it arrives in a rain of small chipped off rocks preceding a huge meteorite in the form of the realization that Akaashi does not hold himself back from expressing whatever’s on his mind.</p><p>The first time Sakusa sees him disagree with Bokuto Kotaro’s nonsensical ramblings, he feels like he’d been struck with lightning. Here was Akaashi, with a face so stoic and an air of calmness around him, secretly harboring a tongue so sharp it can reduce an ace to mere whining. Sakusa wishes he’d cut him with it.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The second meteorite comes hurtling at Sakusa, hitting him in the chest as he stares at the setter in the opening ceremony of the Interhigh in their second year. </p><p>Akaashi stood a little ways off from his team, eyes trained on the floor, not taking notice of his seniors buzzing around him. Maybe it’s how still he was that Sakusa’s attention is immediately pulled towards the only thing in motion about him; his fingers, twiddling and fiddling with each other. Usually, Sakusa would find other people’s habits disgusting, like biting the ends of their nails or the pads of their fingers and touching parts of their face without properly sanitizing their hands. But as he watches Akaashi take his pinky by his thumb and forefinger, all he can think of is how endearing it was.</p><p>To say he’d been fixated on Akaashi’s hands ever since then would be an understatement. Sakusa had dreamt, countless times, of slipping his own fingers in between Akaashi’s, of Akaashi fiddling with Sakusa’s fingers entwined with his, of Sakusa pressing kisses to Akaashi’s knuckles, his palms, the back of his hands, the pads of his fingers. He was enamored.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The third meteorite came on a random Sunday on the way home after running an errand. The Onigiri shop, two blocks from his house, that usually Sakusa would pay no mind to, suddenly looked more appealing as he spotted a familiar tuft of black hair in the line. Akaashi was standing patiently behind two old ladies- both focused more on chatting rather than actually ordering, eyes trained on the display case as though contemplating which flavors to buy. As Akaashi approaches the counter and orders, Sakusa’s conclusion is disproved. He watches in a mixture of awe and disbelief as the man behind the counter packs one onigiri each for every filling available, which on what Sakusa could count was roughly 13. Could Akaashi be running an errand as well? It couldn’t possibly be all for himself. Once again, he is disproved as Akaashi takes an onigiri from the bag once he received it- neglecting basic etiquette if he were to share it with other people, and munches on it happily as he goes on his way, pieces of rice stuck to the corners of his mouth.</p><p>The rest of the walk home was a haze for Sakusa, the only thing on his mind was Akaashi’s borderline excessive preference for onigiri. Never in a million years would he have guessed that the object of his affection would be more than inclined to stuff his face with food other people’s hands have touched and take pleasure in it.</p><p>Every Sunday since then, Sakusa takes walks to the Onigiri shop, hoping to spot a familiar figure, buys one flavor and munches on it on his way home. All the while, wondering whether it was the flavor Akaashi liked best. Or maybe he liked them all the same. Sakusa wanted to know.</p><p>*</p><p>In his second year, Chaos sends him a meteor, so colossal that as Sakusa catches it, all the others come tumbling down.</p><p>He’s wandering inside the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, flitting from match to match, scouting for possible strong opponents. Or so, that’s what he tells himself as his eyes scan the colors of the teams on the court before promptly moving on upon not seeing white and gold and black.</p><p>He’s on his way back, trying to ignore the disappointment curling in his chest, when he catches a glimpse of a familiar jersey- the number 5 stenciled at the back, heading towards the locker rooms, head lowered and shoulders weary. The visual sends a flurry of concern stirring in Sakusa’s chest and he briefly wonders, have they already lost?</p><p>He follows silently, chastising himself for seeming like a stalker. Akaashi turns a corner, and in the brief moment that Sakusa could see his face, his concerns fly out the window.</p><p>Akaashi was crying. Or close to it, his eyebrows drawn, lips pressed in a tight line, it was the most distressed Sakusa has ever seen him, the sight tugged at his heartstrings. He reaches the entrance to the locker rooms and presses himself against the wall, he watches Akaashi sit down on the bench, elbows resting on his knees, palms covering his face. He’s silent, body wound tight as though trying to keep himself from bursting or combusting or collapsing. And Sakusa wants to reach out, to walk the few steps towards Akaashi, kneel down in front of him and take his face in his hands, and whisper soft reassurances to him. He wants Akaashi to look at him, listen to him and believe everything he tells him.</p><p>He yearns.</p><p>Footsteps ring against the linoleum down the corridor, and Sakusa has just enough time to hide behind a corner when Bokuto appears down the hall and enters the locker room. Sakusa peers through the entrance and watches the Fukurodani captain take a seat beside Akaashi, he makes out whispers and hushed answers. Atleast, Akaashi has someone now, Bokuto will know what to do. With that thought in mind, Sakusa walks away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sakuras bloom under the gentle coaxing of the spring breeze, filled with trust and blind devotion. And in turn, the Sakuras bless spring with a view, a beautiful vision, that only it has the privilege of ever witnessing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The earth turns a blind eye to their trysts, the trees close their ears to their whispered vows, and the flowers clamp their mouths shut in reverence and anticipation. As spring does what only it can do to Sakuras. </em>
</p><p><b> <em>I love you,</em> </b> <em> spring says. </em></p><p><b> <em>I know</em> </b> <em> , the Sakuras answer. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>And with the touch of petals and the kiss of the spring breeze fresh on his mind, Sakusa is heady with a realization.</p><p>He wants to do to Akaashi exactly what spring does to Sakuras.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>iii. my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but i shall go on living</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Sakusa reaches the conclusion. There was no big bang or midnight realizations. As opposed to the teen romance movies Iizuna once forced the volleyball team to watch, for Sakusa, falling in love was a slow trek. An uphill climb filled with scenic views and invigorating realizations, enjoying every moment and every step, all the while knowing where you’re headed and taking your merry time.</p><p>Sakusa knew what was happening the moment the wave washed ashore, lapping at the soles of his feet, rising and rising until finally ebbing- letting himself be taken away with it. There was no mighty battle nor any sort of resistance, only a swearing of allegiance, long before it demanded his fealty.</p><p>In the short glimpses to the rolling hills of the world that is Akaashi Keiji, Sakusa had fallen prey to the whims of gravity. Falling and falling, silently, without reservation.</p><p>And in the Spring Interhigh Nationals in his third year, he landed.</p><p>*</p><p>The ball slams against the floor, an arms-length away from the stunned libero. Sakusa lands the same time the whistle is blown. They won, 32-30, Itachiyama versus Fukurodani. </p><p>Sakusa pants from his spot on the court, eyes trained on the hunched figure on the other side- an underlined number 1 stenciled at the back. In between his own pants, he tries to gauge Akaashi’s reactions, he’d gotten good at it after all the years spent simply watching the setter from afar. </p><p>The Fukorodani captain stays hunched for a few seconds- seven, Sakusa counts, before wiping the sweat on his brows and straightening up. Sakusa sees the steel with which he wraps his spine with, sees the pride in the clench of his back, and as he turns to face the net, Sakusa sees a face- at one glance would seem nonchalant and indifferent, but he knows. Knows the set of his brows were muscles clenched in exhaustion, the firm press of his lips were holding back tremors, and in the depths in his eyes hid a whirlpool of disappointment. Still, Akaashi does not let his teammates see, façade unyielding as they shake hands under the net. </p><p>As soon as he turns his back, Sakusa is swamped by his teammates, they don’t touch him, no, they know better than that. They crowd around him, glee plastered in the smiles on their faces, but Sakusa could hardly care about the praise rolling off of his underclassmen's mouths. Eyes and mind trained on one thought alone, <em> confessing </em>. </p><p>He pondered over it a little over a month ago, lying on his bed, at three in the morning. Questioning himself, why was he content with watching from afar, having little to no interactions with Akaashi and the latter having no knowledge of his apparent admirer?</p><p>He could confess- he should confess. He supposes three years is enough pining. And so, he resolved, he's going to ask Akaashi out.</p><p>And there's no better day than today. </p><p>With this in mind, he goes about the awarding ceremony in auto-pilot, letting the congratulations roll off of his back. If Motoya notices the disinterest with which Sakusa regards everything the next few hours, he doesn’t comment. </p><p>Just as they were packing their stuff onto the bus, Sakusa excuses himself under the guise of checking whether their belongings are all in order, waving off a first year who volunteered to go in his stead, and slips away. </p><p>He walks down the corridors, the squeak of his rubber shoes echoing against the empty space, down to Fukurodani's designated locker room. He supposes being captain, Akaashi would be the last to leave and would probably be checking for items left. </p><p>His deduction is proven right as he reaches the entrance and sees Akaashi, back turned to him. </p><p>However, he wasn't alone.</p><p>Bokuto Kotarou, former captain and ace of Fukurodani, now starting lineup for some Division 1 team, was holding a duffel bag, which upon second glance, Sakusa realizes were Akaashi’s. Sakusa knows it’s his- he's memorized the scuff on the bottom part of the bag and the little owl keychain hanging from the zipper. </p><p>Why was Bokuto here? Support, perhaps? Nonetheless, Sakusa's plan was foiled. There's no way he can get Akaashi alone now, knowing Bokuto's tendency to almost never leave the setter's side while they were still teammates. </p><p>He turns around wordlessly and takes one step when he hears Akaashi- voice so soft, he almost believes he's hallucinated it until it comes again. He hides.</p><p>"Thank you for coming." Akaashi mutters, barely above a whisper that Sakusa has to strain his ears just to make out the words.</p><p>"Of course, ‘Kaashi. I wouldn’t miss it for the world", the tone the former captain is using was one Sakusa has never heard him use before, or even remotely thought capable of invoking. It was soft and gentle, like someone talking to a crying toddler,</p><p>"We lost though" </p><p>-or a little kid finding a stray puppy,</p><p>"And? Winning isn’t everything ‘kaashi"</p><p>-or…</p><p>There’s a sigh and a footstep.</p><p>-or someone talking to a lover.</p><p>"I’m so proud of you, Keiji"</p><p>Sakusa takes a peek just in time to see Akaashi <em> melt </em>. Body going pliant in his captain's arms, head resting against his chest, and arms loosely clutching Bokuto’s shirt.</p><p>There’s a few sniffles before Akaashi raises his head, and Sakusa will never forget the smile that graces Akaashi's face as he whispers,</p><p>"I love you, Kou."</p><p>Sakusa turns, pushing himself off of the wall, and walks. He walks down the corridors, towards their bus- paying no mind to Motoya asking why he took so long, he takes his seat in the back, leans his head on the window and closes his eyes. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>That day, Sakusa landed.</p><p>Hard.</p><p>On unforgiving asphalt.</p><p>What he'd thought were rolling hills of soft dandelions was actually a jagged protrusion of rocks and gravel. </p><p>And all he can do now is walk it off.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>iv. you can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>The rest of third year passes by in a blur.</p><p>Without training to keep him occupied, Sakusa buries himself in school, focusing his free time on studying and practicing serve-receives with Motoya on occasions. </p><p> </p><p>His plan has always been to go pro, but he figures it would be better to get a degree first.</p><p>His family was skeptical, they knew how set Sakusa was on going pro, so to them, his decision felt abrupt. They’d pestered him then, his mother constantly asking whether he was concerned of his expenses then promptly reassuring him that they would always support him, not giving him leeway to respond. His older brother, pulling him away from family gatherings to talk to him about how it’s important that he pursue what his heart wants and all the “wisdom of life age has bestowed upon him” to which Sakusa just rolls his eyes at. His older sister cornering him in the kitchen and asking whether it was his anxieties of getting injured long before he played his fill getting to him, which, deep down, wasn’t exactly false. His father, not one for words, stares at him wordlessly during mealtimes, as though Sakusa would sprout wings at the back of his head if he takes his eyes off him.</p><p>Sakusa appreciates it, he does. Being the youngest, he knows it was bound to happen, but the constant coddling was damn near suffocating. Still he reassures them that no, this is not a spur-of-the moment decision; yes, he has thought of it thoroughly; no, he simply wants to create a safety net for himself should anything happen; and yes, he’s fine. And because he’s Sakusa Kiyoomi, they trust his words and leave it at that.</p><p> </p><p>The moment he graduates and announces he will be going to university, the onslaught of invites he's been incessantly receiving ever since the Spring Interhigh doubles, now with scholarship grants from universities aiming to have him play for their team.</p><p> </p><p>He chooses The University of Tokyo and majors in literature; burying himself in Iliad, War and Peace, and Shakespeare. When he’s not drowning in words, he’s drenched in sweat playing for the collegiate volleyball team. By the year he graduates, he's received the Collegiate Volleyball MVP award and the amount of offers he's getting is more than double the ones in his high school. Not that he bothered to count, Motoya is always there to remind him and consequently tell him off from accepting EJP Raijin's offer because in his cousin’s words, “It’d be boring to play with you again, let’s play against each other this time.”</p><p>And Sakusa reassures him every time, he already has his eyes set on one team. </p><p>MSBY Black jackals.</p><p>Their line-up was, to be honest, average at best, and he once thought of accepting Schweiden Adler's offer for second string, but he figured second string just wasn’t worth it to be on the same team as Romero. Also, Ushijima Wakatoshi was there, and despite the odd sense of familiarity with which both aces regard each other, Sakusa just can’t imagine ever being in the same team as him.</p><p>The deciding factor, however, was the one thing MSBY had on par with Schweiden Adlers, Miya Atsumu. The annoying piss-blond haired spawn of Satan that Sakusa had the pleasure of playing with during All-Japan Training Camps in his high school years. He would never admit it to the setter's face but his sets are the most solid Sakusa has ever hit, on par with Kageyama, except he'd quickly resented Kageyama after that one quick set in training camp, not everyone could be like his speed demon partner.</p><p>Sakusa had accepted the offer a month before his graduation, had sat down and discussed his contract three times before he officially signed his skills away, packed his stuff and moved into his new apartment in Osaka, foregoing the complementary housing in the Black Jackals dormitory. </p><p>Now here he was, on the steps of the MSBY gym entrance, wearing his crisp new jacket, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He scans the court, his new teammates already warming up and doing various drills and practices.</p><p> </p><p>Aside from him, there’s a new addition to their lineup, Hinata Shoyo, fresh from Brazil. Sakusa almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted the latter the moment he first stepped inside the gym- tanned and with a physique nowhere near his high school years, Hinata was <em> ripped </em>. Although the awfully vibrant hair still stayed, and so did the ever-present mirth in his face, which Sakusa observed, was more mellowed now, like the years spent alone in a foreign country had chiseled away at the guy’s unrestrained exuberance.</p><p>Hinata pumps his fists in the air after successfully hitting a quick set, faster than the normal quick set but still not as fast as the demon quick. Sakusa internally shivers as he gets flashbacks from their one match in high school, playing against Karasuno was hell and evidently made him hyper-aware of his speed to the point that afterwards, he’d sprint one kilometer every day to improve his time. If they learnt to replicate, and quite possibly, improve the demon quick, it’d be one hell of a nuisance for the opponents.</p><p>His eyes drift towards Miya Atsumu next, a foot away from Hinata, listening intently as Hinata gives feedback on the set, speed and precision. Atsumu nods and reaches for another ball from the cart. The setter had apparently discovered the existence of purple shampoo and had traded in his piss-blonde lack lustered hair that resembled a dog's fur for a tolerable platinum blonde.</p><p>“Tsum tsum! It's my turn now, toss to me!”</p><p>As he hears that boisterous voice bellow across the gym, Sakusa can’t help but feel a pang of contempt in his chest. His eyes sweep towards the end of the court where Bokuto Kotarou stands, one hand on his waist while the other waves frantically in the air. He still was as jubilant as ever, white-tipped hair and endless enthusiasm, enough for Sakusa to grimace at how someone could be so enthusiastic about literally anything and everything.</p><p>Sakusa sighs, he can already tell half his teammates were going to be a pain. He inhales the smell of salonpas, and to the sounds of “nice kills” and skin hitting rubber, he takes one step past the door and into the gym- home sweet home.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Six months of practice was enough time for Sakusa to become completely used to the usual shenanigans of MSBY.</p><p>He thought it would be Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata he would have to deal with but apparently they weren’t called ‘jackals’ for no reason.</p><p>Almost everyone was rowdy in their own way. Inunaki-san, which he thought was a laid-back kind of guy, was actually pretty boisterous and intense. What with how he would not stop pestering Sakusa during serve-receive practices, not stopping until he perfectly received at least ten of Sakusa’s nasty spikes. Meian-san was pretty strict as a captain, although inside the walls of an izakaya, he became more like an older brother who would ramble on about every nonconsequential thing in his life with his arm slung over your shoulder and his breath hot on your cheek. Thomas was the most mellow of them all, although it probably had a lot to do with his subpar Japanese conversational skills, Sakusa could just blanch at the thought of Thomas also being as rowdy as the others.</p><p>Nonetheless, he will never admit it to anyone in this lifetime, but Sakusa likes his team. They were fun to be with, and he finds extra time spent with them outside of practice quite enjoyable and best of all, it was free entertainment.</p><p>Today was their first game of the season, and consequently their first game with the new lineup. They were up against Schweiden Adlers and to say that the locker room was filled with excitement would be an understatement.</p><p>Bokuto, like his usual self, was bouncing with anticipation at playing like he always did, regardless of who they were up against. Atsumu was grinning maniacally at the corner, no doubt thinking of showing off their adaptation of the freak quick and getting to see Tobio on the other side of the net with his former spiker and technique at Atsumu’s behest. Even Hinata, sitting in one of the benches with his eyes closed in meditation, had an aura of untamed excitement as well, having waited ten years to beat his sworn rival.</p><p>Sakusa shakes his head at them all, although deep down, he can’t really say much for himself as the edges of his lips quirk up at the thought of perfectly receiving Wakatoshi’s spikes. </p><p>The whistle blows and the emcee’s voice rings loud and clear in the gym. The Black Jackals rise and head out of the locker room. Sakusa follows, facing his teammates’ backs silhouetted by bright fluorescent lights, he inhales and takes a step on the orange court.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They won.</p><p>After four grueling sets, they won.</p><p>Sakusa can’t help but exhale a long breath of relief, panting.</p><p>That was satisfying.</p><p>Adrenaline continues rushing through his veins as he lines up and shakes hands with the Adlers. He receives heavy pats in the back from Bokuto and Thomas, which he’d long since stopped trying to avoid and simply let happen.</p><p>After the official announcement, Sakusa flops onto the floor and stretches. He stays there for a while, ignoring all the hubbub going around him and focuses on his body. He’s tired and worn; there’s an ache in his muscles that is deeply gratifying and he relishes in this proof of his efforts.</p><p>Standing up, he heads for the bench, looking for his water bottle.</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Atsumu tosses him a blur of yellow and Sakusa manages to catch the water bottle, before giving a noncommittal nod at the setter.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>He takes a long swig and gazes at the court. It was packed, from fans wanting to take autographs to old teammates reacquainting. It was a scene out of a family reunion, and he almost wishes for close friends, not like he had many, or simply Motoya to have been here as well.</p><p>“Hey Omi-kun, look at that guy. Yeah, the one talking to Shoyo-kun, big conman vibes, am I right? I can imagine it already, ‘was looking for an investment and the next thing I knew I lost like a bajillion dollars’”</p><p>Sakusa almost snorts, but he would rather give Ushijima a pat on the back than give Atsumu the satisfaction of having amused him so he manages a nod instead. The guy really did look like a conman, and from the snippets of the conversation he can hear, he sounded like one too. He almost feels bad for Hinata but then he remembers the guy survived in a foreign country all alone, he’s probably a thousand times better than Sakusa at handling situations like this one. </p><p>Sakusa almost says as much until he finally recognizes the man in the suit, it was the captain of Nekoma High School a year before him, and with the close relationship Nekoma had with Karasuno, he deduces Hinata must know him personally. Sakusa tells Atsumu this instead.</p><p>“Hmm, now that ya mention it, he does look a bit familiar. Well, now that Sho-kun’s well and safe, wanna head down and bother my brother for some onigiris?”</p><p>Sakusa looks at Atsumu’s eager face. The setter had not once stopped trying to convince Sakusa to eat his brother’s onigiris ever since that one promotion they did where he declined, prompting Osamu to make something else that required minimal handling. And despite Sakusa vehemently declining Atsumu’s free offers, who goes as far as showing up at Sakusa’s apartment with a box of onigiris, apparently, he has not given up yet.</p><p>Sakusa just sighs and, once again, says no. He watches Atsumu leave, grumbling about how he’ll make Sakusa eat them one day and that when he does, he’ll regret all the times he’s declined them in the past. Sakusa merely shakes his head and continues surveying the scene around him.</p><p>“Oh, Sakusa-san, Hello.”</p><p>Sakusa freezes at the voice, hands gripping his water bottle tighter, and his body going rigid. After some time internally unscrambling his thoughts, he manages to turn around and face Akaashi.</p><p>Sakusa tries very hard not to, but he can’t help but choke at his own saliva at the sight of the man standing in front of him.</p><p>Akaashi was beautiful. Where a certain delicateness once was in high school, has now given way to a more refined edge, the rough life as a manga editor whittling away at his glamour. Nonetheless, he was stunning- clad in a coat atop a mock neck sweater, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and slender fingers gingerly clutching a bag of onigiri miya in front of him. Sakusa was, to say the least, awestruck. It was to be expected, he reasons, he hasn’t seen Akaashi in a long while following his last volleyball tournament, of course seeing him again would be a punch to the gut. Rather than some unfortunate happenstance, he’d actively been avoiding Akaashi. Had purposely avoided gatherings and occasions where the latter might attend, entirely avoided walking down the street where Akaashi usually buys his onigiris, and unsubscribed from manga forums which Akaashi was part of.</p><p>Sakusa had scrapped parts of his life and routines that held some remote connection to Akaashi all to avoid the latter and subsequently, the tight feeling in his chest whenever he sees him or hears word of him. However, he did not anticipate this turnout- never once expected Akaashi to attend one of his games, and he can’t help the minor flutter in his chest, akin to a bud eagerly peeking out from underneath the snow.</p><p>“Akaashi-san.”</p><p>His voice comes out a little breathy, he blames it on the post-match fatigue, not the unrelated tightening in his diaphragm that threatens to take the air out of his lungs.</p><p>“Congratulations on the game.” Akaashi says, punctuating it with a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Sakusa is overcome with the urge to run the pads of his fingers over them and smoothen it out.</p><p>“Thank you.” Sakusa utters, immediately wanting to beat himself up for his nonexistent communication skills, then proceeding to regret why he’s never actually bothered to work on it.</p><p>The years he’s spent forcing himself to forget the first love of his life all seemed useless now. For all the evasion that he’s done, right now, there’s nothing more that he wants than to keep talking to Akaashi. Whether it be the weather, or his job, anything, he’ll take anything.</p><p>He lips part, eyebrows furrowing and back straightening, a half-formed question at the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“Sorry to bother you Sakusa-san, but have you seen Bokuto-san?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I think he’s with Nekoma’s former captain.”</p><p>“Thank you, Sakusa-san. And congratulations again on your win, if you’ll excuse me.” And with a grin and a curt bow, Akaashi leaves, giving no chance for Sakusa to respond.</p><p>The grip Sakusa has on his water bottle goes slack, he stares at the floor a foot away from him. Maybe it's because he hasn’t seen Akaashi in a while that him suddenly leaving barely a minute in their conversation stung. But he’d accepted it, back in high school, on the bus, on the way home from the Interhigh- had accepted that it will most probably never be him, he’d accepted it. Or atleast, he believed he had.</p><p> </p><p>The Sakura tree he thought he’d uprooted from the roots, apparently had one stubborn life in it still. And where the bud had blossomed- hoping to find some light under all the snow, was met, instead with hail. Still, it persists, and with spring underneath its petals, the fragile thing succumbs to the storm.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>v. i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul</strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><p>Courtesy of one Miya Atsumu and Inunaki Shion, the MSBY Black Jackals, sans Bokuto, are now sitting in an <em> izakaya </em> to celebrate their first win of the season. Meian-san begrudgingly allowed it, but not before warning everyone to watch their alcohol intake and only have at most three bottles. As if it needed much stress, everyone was well-aware they needed to be in peak condition for the duration of the season, it was still their first game after all.</p><p>Sakusa had tagged along after much pestering from Atsumu and Shion, just to shut them both up. He’d originally come without any intentions of drinking but here he was, on his third and final bottle. Hoping to drown whatever feelings that may have resurfaced with today’s developments. He internally thanks the rest of his teammates for giving him a wide berth, not attempting to include him in their arguments and whatnot.</p><p>The alcohol feels scorching in his veins and it leaves a warm buzz where it runs. He’s not a lightweight, he isn’t, but the haze in his mind has begun to thicken, masking his thoughts and he takes a swig- chasing after it.</p><p>Seeing Akaashi again felt like the first breeze of spring; the chill of the winter air giving way to a few degrees of warmth, gently caressing the leaves of a budding Sakura tree. But Sakusa was a fool to think the breeze was his alone- was his in the first place.</p><p>He takes another drink, roughly downing the liquid.</p><p>Six years.</p><p>Six fucking years.</p><p>That’s how long he pined over someone who wasn’t even aware of his feelings (not that it was Akaashi’s fault),  someone who isn’t available for Sakusa to court (now that he figures Akaashi could be blamed for). A fool, that's what Sakusa Kiyoomi is; Holy Minister his ass, if it meant worshiping a deity who probably can’t even hear his prayers, then sure, he’s lived up to his name then. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Stupid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Motherfucking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fool.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There’s a chime, signaling that someone had just entered the izakaya and the already boisterous air in the room turns rowdier if that was possible.</p><p>“Bokuto-san, you’re here!”, Hinata slurs, a goofy grin on his face where he’s slumped face first on the table.</p><p>Sakusa raises his half-empty bottle, not bothering to turn around and greet the newcomer.</p><p>“And Akaashi-san! Hello!”</p><p>His hand pauses midway for a split-second before Sakusa downs the rest of the drink in spite. The beer leaves his throat dry and placing down the empty bottle, he tries his best to avoid looking at the blur of grey moving to take the seat in front of him.</p><p>Great. Just great.</p><p>Amazing, really, thank you to whoever fucked up god there was that was listening to his thoughts and just had to bring the reason for his dilemma right on his doorstep. Thank  you very fucking much. </p><p>As if Sakusa needed any more reason to get shitfaced.</p><p>He was pitiful. And fucking pathetic. Can’t even look at the man in front of him for fear he’d give away his heart right on the table of an izakaya where his teammates rest half-asleep and tipsy. Pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>The empty bottles in front of him piles up and the warning Meian-san had given them disappears from the forefront of his mind. So what? His body can be restored easily, just a few laps more, a few reps and he’d be back in tiptop shape. </p><p>Sakusa was being careless, he knew that. Gone was the usual caution with which he approached everything he did. Although, he supposes it can’t really apply in this case; whatever feelings he has for the man in front of him went beyond meticulous preparations and habitual routines, simply put, it went against everything Sakusa tried so hard to emulate in his life. So was he still so hung up on it?</p><p>The conversations around him blur and Sakusa does very little to follow whoever the fuck it was Atsumu offended this time, or whatever Hinata and Kageyama  did in the bathroom that merited an hour, or whatever the fuck it was that Bokuto did after the game. He didn't care about it all, he probably should, they were his teammates and if he were forced to admit, his friends. But right now, none of it matters, and so he opens another bottle.</p><p>“Woah! Akaashi-kun, didn’t know ya were engaged?”</p><p>At that moment, whatever shred of self-control he had to prevent himself from staring at Akaashi dissipates- gone with the words Atsumu uttered. He openly stares at Akaashi, half opened bottle forgotten. He waits for the man to deny, to say he wasn’t, but instead Sakusa sees the telltale signs of a blush creeping up the sides of Akaashi’s neck. Sees how the tips of his ears burn and he squirms in his seat, a shy smile on his face. His eyes go to Akaashi’s hands, and where he remembered bare slender fingers earlier now rested a silver band, engravings marring the surface. </p><p>Akaashi nods and says, “I am, just recently.” </p><p>But that’s not what does Sakusa in, it’s how Bokuto seems to sit straighter by Akaashi’s side, before proudly taking Akaashi’s hand with his own, an identical piece of metal resting on his ring finger.</p><p>And to the sound of the uproars of his teammates, Sakusa’s heart breaks.</p><p>He remembers muttering an incoherent “will you excuse me?” before he abruptly stands and stumbles out of the izakaya. Outside, accompanied by nothing but dim streetlights and the clouds hanging overhead, he doubles over and inhales, long and desperate. With tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, he exhales.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Pitiful.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>vi. let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Sakusa doesn’t go back in, instead he begins to stumble his way to the hotel. Thankfully, he’s sober enough to remember which streets to turn to, but even if he wasn’t, he would rather get lost in Sendai rather than share the same space as the ‘newly engaged couple’ and have to fake a smile congratulating them.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the team would probably worry once they notice that he’s no longer there and there’s the possibility that he’ll receive yet another one of Meian-san’s infamous scolding, but in his inebriated state, he could care less.</p><p> </p><p>He supposes six years was too long, and he is taken back to the late nights where he laid in bed, thoughts bombarding him with  “Why? Why are you still holding on?”. Sakusa himself doesn’t quite know why he hadn’t managed to let go of Akaashi. He’d asked that himself a thousand times and having received no answer,  he’s convinced it’s now one of the mysteries of the universe- Chaos stringing him along wordlessly on an invisible path, cackling as Sakusa lets himself be dragged.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sakusa looks up, managing to make out a meager collection of stars dotting the cloudy sky and, spreading his arms wide, he laughs- a loud, ugly, mirthless laugh, straight at Chaos, wherever it may be. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you!”</p><p> </p><p>Six years was enough.</p><p> </p><p>Laughing and spewing curses, Sakusa makes his way to the hotel. He’s well aware of the sight he made and if anyone dares think him pathetic or pitiful, well fuck them.</p><p> </p><p>He laughs again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So fucking pitiful. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>If he hadn’t...</p><p>If only he’d stopped...</p><p>If only he didn't let himself fall further. </p><p> </p><p>Ifs and if onlys.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, Chaos was at fault for bringing Akaashi Keiji onto Sakusa path. But that was mere misfortune, it was Sakusa’s fault for falling- for letting his eyes trail Akaashi’s back and making room in his mind for the latter to occupy. He can blame the universe all he wants but it merely nudged him in a direction and it was him who gladly walked and traversed the path.</p><p> </p><p>This, everything he’s feeling right now was his own doing. And to blame it on some nonexistent entity, <em> utterly pitiful. </em> </p><p> </p><p>He stumbles in his steps. Stopping, he stands still, breathing hard from all the laughing and cursing. </p><p> </p><p>Even in his haze, Sakusa knows how he’s acting right now sets him leagues back from his carefully crafted and honed mindset to never, under any circumstance, think himself pitiful. He’d learnt that early, no one else might believe in him- think only of him as the silent friendless kid at the corner, but that never mattered. The most important thing is that he never think that of himself</p><p> </p><p>And so with that mindset ingrained in himself, Sakusa throws the past few hours and the last six years to the wind, letting Chaos have it. Thinking and blaming himself would do nothing good now. There’s nothing else he can do except accept that Akaashi is not meant for him and move on. Nothing else. </p><p> </p><p>If he’s lucky, he’ll move on fast, but as luck would have it, Sakusa never really knows which end of the spectrum he stands. Sometimes he’s lucky, sometimes he’s not. This time, he was more unfortunate than blessed, still Sakusa sends out a minute thanks at Chaos and,  spinning in his orbit, he breaks away from the path.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>heyy! if ya made it this far, bless yer soul, i love you and you can have one half of my kidney if you ever need it, just hit me up. Kudos and comments are always appreciated, tho it would be much better if ya *twiddles fingers* idk maybee considered shipping sakuaka if ya havent yet teehee,, but yes thank you so much for readingg, come scream at  me on twitter, @bxmddream, Fly high!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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